


Out of Our Element

by chubby_thunder



Category: Markiplier (YouTube RPF), markiplier - Fandom, youtube - Fandom
Genre: Boys Kissing, Could be reader insert?, First Kiss, Flirting, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Kissing, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Making Out, Mutual Pining, Other, Queer Courtship, Rating May Change, Sexting, Slow Burn, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, fluidity of sexuality
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-02 02:04:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8647501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chubby_thunder/pseuds/chubby_thunder
Summary: Ripley is an ER nurse living in Brooklyn. He reluctantly attends an art opening one night after work not realizing he's about to meet someone a little bit different.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first posting ever, so please excuse any faux pas!

The art opening wasn’t too bad. At least that’s what Ripley kept telling himself as he went up to the open bar for his 3rd drink of the night. A long couple of shifts in the ER and he was ready for a little R&R. He wasn’t really drunk. Testosterone had a great way of increasing your alcohol tolerance as Ripley had learned over the past couple years. He did sometimes lament not being a cheap date any longer. He ordered another Jack and ginger and waited patiently leaning on the bar. He smiled at the bartender. She wasn’t too rough on the eyes. Ripley liked very femme ladies, especially ones with dark hair. She gave him his drink as another guy stepped up to the bar beside him to order a drink.

“Hey! Just another tonic with lime, please,” he said jovially to the bartender.

Ripley glanced out of the corner of his eye at the guy to his right with the shock of bright red hair. He looked nice, like a happy guy. As Ripley put down his large tip on the bar for the bartender, he noticed the guy do the same. Ripley was impressed. It was rare to see young people be so generous at an event like this. He finally actually looked to his right at the slightly scruffy young man in the half-decent shirt and gave him a small smile of acknowledgement. He grinned back as the bartender returned with his tonic water.

“That’s really all you’re drinkin’ tonight, huh?” she asked.

“Yeah,” the guy replied adjusting his glasses, “Gotta keep my wits about me.”

He thanked her again kindly before starting to turn away. He paused. “Nice glasses, man,” he said to Ripley, tapping his own to be clear.

“Hey, thanks,” Ripley replied with a chuckle, then sipped his drink.

“I’m Mark,” the guy said putting out his free hand.

Ripley shook his hand. Mark had a decent grip. He was obviously treating Ripley just like one of the guys. Ripley silently loved him for that. Passing always felt glorious.

“Mark, nice to meet you. I’m Ripley,” he replied easily.

“Ripley? For real?” Mark asked, eyes widening happily behind his glasses.

“Yup. For real,” replied Ripley with a tiny smirk.

He was used to that question. He could tell from the look on Mark’s scruffy face that he got the reference and was pretty jazzed about it.

 “Tell me you’re named after the character,” Mark chuckled.

Ripley merely nodded and enjoyed Mark’s appreciative smile.

“Do you know the artist?” Mark asked. He was obviously not a native New Yorker, but he made up for it with his charming smile.

Ripley nodded, “Yeah, it’s a friend of a friend.”

Mark’s physicality changed some at that point and he settled back against the bar. He seemed to feel really comfortable talking to Ripley in the crowded bar area.

“I was invited by a friend who then couldn’t make it,” Mark lamented, “I’m just in New York on a business trip this week.”

Ripley went ahead and took the bait. “Oh yeah?” he turned a little more toward Mark on his barstool, “Where are you from?”

“I live in LA now, but I’m originally from Cincinnati,” Mark replied with a genuine smile.

Ripley could tell he liked talking about himself. If it was anxiety or some slight narcissism, Ripley couldn’t tell. Either way, he seemed nice for the most part. They spent the next hour chatting amiably. Ripley went through another Jack & ginger and Mark had just finished his third or fourth tonic water.

“I’ve gotta go find the bathroom,” Mark said, glancing around the crowded space for a sign, “You sticking around for a bit?”

Ripley could tell by the look on his face that he was hoping Ripley would be here for a while and willing to keep hanging out. It was pretty endearing actually. It was the adult equivalent of a kid on the playground asking you directly if you could be their new best friend.

Ripley nodded, “I’ll be here.”

Ripley was pretty average looking. He was short, only standing about 5’5. He had been lucky enough to grow a whole extra inch when he started testosterone 3 years ago. He had somewhat grown out reddish blond hair with a bit of curl to it. His facial hair, which was a decent scruff at this point after a new days of consecutive work shifts, was almost completely ginger.

Ripley was standing by the bar when Mark returned. Ripley realized that Mark wasn’t particularly tall either and this made him grin a little. It always made him happy to meet shorter cisgender guys. At least… he assumed Mark was cisgender from his voice. They meandered into the gallery a little further checking out some of the paintings as they went. They finally settled in a couple chairs that were somewhat out of the way.

The topic of conversation eventually turned to Ripley.

“Yeah, it’s a cool job, being a nurse practitioner. I’ve been in the ER for the past few years. It keeps you on your toes,” Ripley commented.

“Do you work, like, 12 hour shifts?” Mark asked.

“Mhmm. That’s really the only way to do the ER stuff. Twelves and sometimes more depending. Like on holidays? I’ve done a 24 hour shift before.”

Ripley learned over the course of their chatter that Mark was a professional YouTuber and makes his living by playing video games and doing comedy. His demeanor definitely made sense once Ripley got this new information. He was always “on”.

The night was coming to a close and Ripley was looking at his phone after a text from a friend. He reflexively smiled.

“Some good news?” Mark inquired.

Ripley looked up. “Oh, no, I mean… Just a nice text,” he replied casually as he caught a glimpse of time on his phone screen. “Oh man, I guess I should be heading home. I’ve got a bit of a ride back to Brooklyn.”

He stood keeping his demeanor friendly. Ripley found Mark to be a nice guy. Maybe he’d be a friend, but if not at least he had been pleasant company for an evening that Ripley had been convinced was a lost cause.

Mark smiled amiably, “I suppose I should be heading back to my hotel too.”

Mark held out his hand again with a grin and Ripley glad shook it with a firm but comfortable handshake.

“Besides, if I want to get to the gym in the morning, I’ve gotta get at least a little sleep,” Ripley added as he carded his free hand through his curls.

Mark brightened once more. “Gym, huh? I have a really fabulous gym in the hotel they put me up in. I always do better with a work out buddy. You wouldn’t have any interest in coming back out this way to work out with me, would ya’?”

A slight moment of hesitation gave Ripley a second to think. He liked Mark just fine, for as much as he knew him. He had presumed him to be straight, but now had a glimmer of doubt. Either way, it didn’t really matter but the thought of a decent gym in a really nice hotel was tempting. Mark was obviously the kind of guy who most enjoyed sharing his spoils and blessings, and now it happened to be Ripley he was offering to share with.

“Actually, I’ve got a couple errands to run in midtown anyway. So… sure! That sounds cool,” Ripley chuckled, finding himself giving the charming half-smile he had given prior to the bartender.

“Awesome!” Mark crowed, his enthusiasm bubbling over.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A morning gym hang out and a little male bonding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to my wonderful beta readers [Tentacutie](http://www.tentacutie.tumblr.com) and [PagingValentineOne](http://archiveofourown.org/users/PagingValentineOne/pseuds/PagingValentineOne) for all the good feedback and helping me get into Ripley's head a little better.  
> Enjoy!

The next morning on the train in from Brooklyn, Ripley briefly questioned why he chose to accept Mark’s offer. He had a moment of concern that he was maybe leading him on, but then also questioned what that assumption meant for himself and his own proclivities. That line of thinking was short-lived as he exited the train and walked toward the hotel address that Mark had texted him the night before. It was nice to be meeting up with a friend, as much of a new friend as he may be. Ripley shot Mark a quick text to let him know he was close by.

_Almost there. Sorry I’m running a little behind._

He was heartened by the prompt response.

_That’s fine! I’m just hanging out in the lobby._

Ripley let out a happy little chortle at Mark’s use of correct capitalization and punctuation. He hadn’t expected Mark to be so meticulous, but he liked it. They greeted each other with a big smile in the lobby, no longer needing the more formal handshakes from the night before.

“I don’t think I’m gonna be quite up to par today,” Ripley warned as he followed Mark toward the luxurious gym area.

“Oh yeah, why? Late night?” Mark asked.

“Nah. Just too many drinks,” Ripley admitted.

Mark laughed, “You seemed alright last night.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t see me on my subway ride home,” Ripley quipped.

Once inside the gym, they found a spot to put their belongings. As he pulled off his sweatshirt, Ripley’s cut up tank top rode up. His work out shorts and sneakers were fairly nondescript, but Mark caught a glimpse of some scarring underneath one of Ripley’s arms. While curious, he didn’t ask about it. Mark knew about scars all too well and that questions could easily come across sometimes as perverse even if they were merely inquisitive.

The guys made it through some stretches and some warm-up on the treadmills. An odd, but not uncomfortable silence drifted between them. It wasn’t until they got down to business at the full Olympic squat rack set up that they began chitchatting again.

“New York is so cool. I don’t come here nearly often enough. But I miss my dog,” Mark lamented as he changed plates.

Ripley smiled, amused, “You’ve got a dog?”

“I do!” Mark cried, excitedly pulling his phone back out of his pocket to show Ripley the picture of the big golden retriever on his lock screen, “She’s a rescue pup.”

“What’s her name?” Ripley asked.

“Chica. She’s my best bup,” Mark replied with the most sincere grin.

Ripley replied, “I’ve got one of those too. A rescue pug.”

“Black or fawn?” Mark asked without missing a beat.

“Black,” Ripley said as he reracked the bar.

Ripley smiled to himself as he helped Mark change the plates. Anyone who liked dogs that much had to be a worthwhile human being. Ripley liked Mark. He liked him quite a bit. The conversation continued and turned to hometowns, childhoods, and family. There was an ease about Ripley that grew the more they talked and laughed.

“So, girlfriend?” Mark asked as he spotted Ripley for a set of squats.

With Ripley’s arms up to grip the bar, his scars showed prominently now through the loose sleeves of his tank top.

“Nah. Not right now. I couldn’t date even if I wanted to. What girl would be okay with my schedule?” Ripley contributed to the conversation, though his words seemed weighted down heavy. It was the silent regret of having to be so careful in dating. Not everyone in this world was okay with dating a trans person. The finesse of navigating those conversations was exhausting for Ripley. He’d come to much prefer this: a friendship. Building friendships didn’t require immediate disclosure and crushing rejection.

“I get it,” Mark agreed, almost a little too quickly, “I’m in the same boat.”

After the workout, which included a fair amount of ribbing regarding stamina after a night of drinking, Mark was stretching a bit more while Ripley gathered up his belongings.

“Do they have a shower down here?” Ripley inquired, scanning the gym for signs of a changing room.

“Er, I don’t think so. Look, just come up and use my bathroom,” Mark offered nonchalantly.

Ripley’s stomach dropped.

“I don’t wanna impose. Thanks though,” he replied seeming calm enough.

“Come on, man. You’re the one who said you had errands to run. I guess if you wanna stay gross that’s your prerogative,” Mark teased.

Ripley crinkled his nose like he smelled something off. “Fine. If you insist.”

The elevator ride up to Mark’s room verified that Mark was indeed correct and that they were both quite ripe with sweat along with pheromones in tow. Ripley always found it interesting how his own body never smelled completely like that of a guy, but it was enough to convince 99% of the population.

Mark’s room was pretty nice, likely in the moderate range for a hotel this fancy. Ripley took a minute to check out the TV and the minibar before locating the bathroom. He looked around also taking in the décor, trying not to be too intrusive into Mark’s personal items. This proved to be difficult as they were all strewn haphazard about the room.

“Swanky digs, Mark,” he teased while using the edge of his cut up tank top to wipe the sweat spots off his glasses.

“Thank you, sir,” Mark replied.

When Ripley finally put his glasses back on and turned around to face Mark, Mark’s shirt was gone. Being a nurse, obviously nudity didn’t bother Ripley in the slightest. It was the unexpected nature of the action that took him off guard. In his world, he still couldn’t whip off his shirt at any time. It could be a safety concern and to be honest, it made him kind of jealous.

When a person is surprised, their social graces often go out the window and Ripley found himself staring quite rudely at the scars all over Mark’s abdomen. He snapped out of it quick enough but he had been noticed. Ripley knew better. He internally scolded himself. But like Ripley, Mark was used to that reaction from people. Ripley still found scars intriguing, sometimes inappropriately so.

“Yeah. I’ve had a few… medical problems over the years. One requiring full exploratory surgery,” Mark explained as he absentmindedly rubbed the long scar running from the bottom of his sternum all the way down to his belly button.

“Wow,” Ripley commented slightly awkwardly, “Yeah, that one’s a doozy.”

Mark nodded. It felt slightly less weird to be talking about it with someone in the medical field. He realised that Ripley likely knew what it was from without him even having to explain.

“Also these,” Mark continued, compelled to expound and poked at the three smaller scars which were more darkly pigmented and still indented, almost like the scar tissue hadn’t softened up yet, “From a couple years ago.”

“From something laparoscopic?” Ripley asked, knowing those telltale spots as being the ports used for the instruments and lights during an internal procedure.

Mark nodded.

“You’ve had more than your fair share, that’s for sure,” Ripley remarked.

This was bizarre. Ripley was so accustomed to being the one whose body was on display, to being the medical anomaly in the room, that he wasn’t sure how to process the strange role reversal in this intimate bonding moment.

“I noticed you have some… too,” Mark added touching under his own arm, indicating where he had seen them on Ripley when they were in the gym. His tone was softly inquisitive, all supportive curiosity, nothing perverse or malicious. The moment continued being quite surreal.

“Oh yeah. Those are…” Ripley paused.

Part of him didn’t want to tell. Part of him wanted to maintain his smoke screen of passing that had been based completely around Mark’s implicit assumptions. Ripley didn’t know what to say. He opened his mouth to speak, but they shut it almost immediately. He was completely torn. But in the end, his desire to be equitable in this newfound sharing moment won out.

“Those are from my chest reconstruction,” he explained.

Ripley had said those words a thousand times before, but it was usually to people whom he was certain already knew what it meant. The awkwardness of opening this line of conversation was old hat but Ripley found himself more worried than he usually would be about an acquaintance’s reaction. Again, to be equitable, and to better explain himself, Ripley pulled his own shirt off in that moment. He wasn’t completely sure why this felt necessary, but it did.

Normal human responses kicked in reflexively and Mark examined Ripley’s chest from their comfortable distance across the room from each other. Ripley was ridiculously fair-skinned and while most of the scarring was stark white, some thicker pink spots roped across his skin, especially as the scars moved around the sides of his chest. Ripley let out the breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding. It was a relief to just be open.

“Oh,” Mark said as the visual finally made the verbal explanation click in his mind, and then he smiled, “That’s neat.”

Ripley almost started to laugh. “Neat? That’s not what most people say.”

Mark gave a small one-shouldered shrug, “Why? What do most people say?”

“You don’t wanna know,” Ripley replied with the tiniest hint of a cold edge to his voice.

They stood like that maybe just a few seconds longer than was deemed socially appropriate as each read just a little of the other’s life story on their skin. It was a moment considered by most to be far too intimate for two male friends.

“I’m gonna…” Ripley started as he pointed toward the bathroom, unsure of what else to say.

“Oh yeah, of course!” Mark replied hospitably, “There should be fresh towels. Just take whatever you need.”

Ripley headed into the bathroom, happy to have a moment alone to sort through the chaos in his head. He didn’t feel bad about the moment they had just shared or even embarrassed. It had just been… unexpected. Ripley didn’t seek out closeness like most people. Having spent so many years trying to protect himself emotionally had left him a little numb to the outside world. Ripley looked at himself in the bathroom mirror after turning on the shower so it could warm up. His inner voice poked at him.

_But Mark’s not like that. Mark wants to know you. Don’t shut down._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I'm still working on a chapter a week.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> These two nerds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to my delicious beta readers [Tentacutie](http://www.tentacutie.tumblr.com) and [PagingValentineOne](http://archiveofourown.org/users/PagingValentineOne/pseuds/PagingValentineOne)!  
> Enjoy!

The water in the hotel shower felt warm and relaxing. Ripley was actually able to forget for a moment that he was in someone else’s space. He took his time to wash away the sweat of his workout.

_That was so… different. Mark is so kind. But I don’t really like men that way, but maybe this is different too? It feels different. Is it friendship or is it something else? Maybe I was just feeling the thrill of passing._

_No, it really is different. He’s never known me as anything but Ripley. I’m only me. If he likes me, he likes the real me._

In the hotel room Mark was perched on the edge of the bed, t-shirt still in his hands worrying at the cotton with his fingers. The white noise of the shower gave him the perfect backdrop for his own thoughts. He knew people like Ripley existed and he was sure he’d met them before, sometimes knowingly, sometimes unknowingly. It didn’t bother him. Mark was suddenly much more interested in what it meant to live life as a transman. Ripley had just been so forthright about it. It struck Mark as pretty brave.

Getting up to pull out some clean clothes, Mark noticed Ripley’s bag still sitting on the floor near the bed with a few items spilling out. He paused for a moment. He wasn’t usually an intrusive person and he valued his own privacy, but something was pushing him to look. He warred with himself for an agonizing ten seconds before looking closer at the open duffle bag. He didn’t move anything or pull anything out, but decided to glance at it. It was a conglomerate of regular guy stuff. There was deodorant and hair product. There was a water bottle and a small towel. There were extra pairs of socks and underwear. It even looked like a pretty normal pair of boxer briefs. Mark wasn’t exactly sure what he was expecting to find.

Back inside the bathroom, Ripley finished up and turned off the water. With a sigh he finally exited the shower, toweling off as he went. Blinking his eyes to free them of excess water he towel dried his hair as best he could. His curls bounced back quickly once partially dry. Ripley smiled at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He forgot sometimes how much he liked his hair grown out like this. It had taken a while but it had been worth it.

_I guess I am pretty cute._

He grinned at himself as he went to get dressed, but quickly realized as he glanced around the steamy bathroom that he had left all his clothing and toiletries outside the bathroom in his bag. He sighed again and resigned himself to a little more awkwardness. Ripley wrapped a towel around his waist as best he could before opening the door. He walked straight to his bag leaning over to pick it up, his other hand deathgripped around that damn towel.

“Heh, sorry, I left my stuff out here,” he said hurriedly.

Ripley looked up to see Mark flung back laying on the edge of the bed smiling at him.

“That’s cool,” Mark replied, “Actually, I need to hop in. I’m completely gross. You can use the rest of the room. More space.”

Ripley stood up straight. “O… okay.”

Mark scurried past him toward the bathroom. While he did, he intentionally placed the fingers of his left hand on Ripley’s arm. It was an insignificant gesture, something people did to make sure they didn’t walk into you when passing by, but it made the hair on Ripley’s neck stand up.

Once he was alone and he heard the shower turn back on Ripley got quick to getting dressed. His outfit for the day was simple consisting of jeans, a grey sweater, and some nice sneakers. He eventually made himself comfortable and sat on the chair on the other side of the hotel room. He took those few quiet minutes to pull out his phone.

_It would be rude of me to leave without saying goodbye. I don’t really want to leave yet anyway…_

Mark emerged from the bathroom half-dressed to find Ripley sprawled quite comfortably in the chair.

“Whachu doin’?” Mark asked as he grabbed a shirt on his way across the room.

“Nothing,” Ripley replied nonchalantly, “It’s a stupid game on my phone.”

“What game?” Mark asked, obviously intrigued.

“It’s so dumb,” Ripley protested.

Mark was busy trying to look over his shoulder.

“It’s Clash of Clans,” Ripley confessed ruefully.

“Clash of Clans is great!” Mark cried.

It dawned on Ripley in that moment that he didn’t have to feel strange about his hobbies with Mark. Mark made his living playing video games. There would be no judgement. In fact, Mark was already pulling out his phone and asking to add Ripley’s username.

They sat there together, Ripley nestled in the chair with Mark seated on the arm of the chair right beside him as they compared clans and battles and made plans to send units back and forth. Ripley’s smile was genuine as he looked up at Mark there right beside him. They were sharing tips and tricks, even showing each other interesting apps and games they had come across. It was like parallel play for adults while shoving phone screens in each other’s faces.

“Chica’s so cute,” Ripley remarked as Mark closed an app on his phone to reveal the home screen picture of the golden retriever once again.

“She is,” Mark agreed, taking a moment to gaze at the picture too before looking back at Ripley with a sweet expression, “I wish you could meet her.”

_Maybe someday I could._

Ripley was so grateful for his internal filter at that point. He hadn’t said the words out loud but he had thought them nearly automatically. He beat himself up mentally for a moment for taking this someplace in his mind that it would never go in real life. It took a split second for Ripley to replay the moment and realize what Mark had implied by his statement in the first place.

_‘I wish you could meet her.’ He wants me to meet his dog?_

In Ripley’s world that was a pretty big deal. He continued to tease apart the innocent interaction until Mark tore him from his thoughts.

“You wanna go get a coffee?” he asked from his seat there on the arm of Ripley’s chair.

They were maybe three inches apart.

“Uh, yeah,” Ripley replied feeling dazed.

_Was this normal? Was he supposed to say yes?_

The walk to the nearest Starbucks was fraught with Ripley’s neurotic internal monologue. When they finally sat down, coffee in hand, Mark’s smile helped him to snap right out of it.

“Thanks for the coffee,” Ripley reiterated.

“Sure. It’s the least I could do,” Mark replied.

“What do you mean?” Ripley asked between sips.

“You’ve been keeping me company in this giant city where I know all of two people.”

“Three,” Ripley quickly corrected him, “You now know three people.”

Mark’s face broke into another grin as he ran a hand through his half dried red hair to get it out of his face, “You’re right. Three.”

Ripley had no doubt in his mind anymore that this was flirting in some form or another. They chatted on in the busy coffee shop easily only paying attention to one another. Ripley fiddled almost constantly with the paper cup in his hands on the pretense that his fingers were cold. They still sat there long after the coffee was gone, neither one of them wanting to end the outing.

“Excuse me?” came a voice from beside their table.

It was almost drowned out by the din of the coffee shop. Both Mark and Ripley turned to look. It was a somewhat quirky stylish looking teenager with short teal hair. She couldn’t be any older than 16.

“I’m really really really sorry to bother you, but… you’re Markiplier, right?” she asked, her cheeks already pink with embarrassment.

Ripley watched as Mark’s eyes lit up. “Why I certainly am and you’re not bothering me in the slightest.”

The girl looked like she was going to burst.

“Oh god. I knew it! I, uh, just wanted to tell you that I’m a really big fan and that your videos have, like, made some of my really awful days a little bit better and thank you for that, ‘cause you’re just so fabulous,” her run on sentence oozed genuine affection and admiration.

Mark gestured for her to get a little closer to the table. “What’s your name?”

“Izzy,” she replied in a squeak, her eyes almost sparkling.

“Izzy, it really means a lot to me to hear you say that. Thank you,” he said looking into her sweet shy face.

The two of them talked for another minute or so. It wasn’t a long conversation but Ripley could see that Mark was fully invested in talking to her and connecting with her. That was clear in how quickly her nervousness seemed to dissipate. The brief but poignant encounter ended with Izzy asking for a photo and getting to take a selfie with Mark. They shook hands and she went on her way.

“I think you just made that girl’s year,” Ripley commented once she was out of earshot.

“You think?” Mark asked, still carrying a bit of his glow from the encounter.

“Absolutely. And I think that’s completely awesome,” Ripley replied, so thoroughly lauding Mark that his face started turning the color of his hair.

Mark seemed a little flustered by all this, but recovered quickly getting them back into conversation. Ripley noticed and appreciated his reaction. It was good to know he wasn’t the only one being impacted.

“I’d better get to my errands,” Ripley conceded after finally checking his phone.

It was nearly 3pm. Time felt like it had stood still for the past two hours. He didn’t want to go, but Ripley knew that he had things that needed to get done. But parting ways was going to sting.

“I know,” Mark replied with a bittersweet smile.

“But for real, thanks,” Ripley added looking right into Mark’s eyes.

It was a sweet moment shared in that busy Starbucks near midtown Manhattan. They might as well have been completely alone. But sadly it couldn’t last. Ripley had to head out. With another prolonged goodbye, they finally parted ways.

Ripley finally completed his errands for the day, grateful to have another day off tomorrow to finish the ones that had dropped off his list for higher priorities such as Mark. On the subway ride back home to Brooklyn Ripley was playing games on his phone to pass the time when a text from Mark came through.

_Thanks again for hanging out today. I had a really nice time._

Ripley tried so hard to stifle his goofy smile. It was like the check-in text after a first date. He was sure no one on the subway cared about him or his life, but he felt compelled to hold the phone a little closer to his chest as he texted back.

_I did too. Thank you for inviting me._

Riley went back to his game for a few minutes then drifted off into thought staring at nothing across the full subway car. Unexpectedly, his phone vibrated again. Ripley looked down at the screen. Another text from Mark. This one was sort and simple but sent a warm flutter through Ripley’s chest.

_Get home safe._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! The next chapter will be worthy of its Mature rating, I promise.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end'~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, we are moving closer to a true M rating. And we've had a few tag additions.
> 
> Thanks to beta reading buddies: [PagingValentineOne](http://archiveofourown.org/users/PagingValentineOne/pseuds/PagingValentineOne) and [TentaCutie](http://tentacutie.tumblr.com). 
> 
> Enjoy!

Ripley woke up the next morning without his alarm. He sat up stretching feeling oddly refreshed for how little sleep he calculated he had gotten. He reflexively checked his phone on the nightstand to see a few of the usual notifications. There was a text from his mother, another from a very good friend, and at the very bottom, one from Mark.

_Hey, it’s my last day in NY and I wanna see you before I go._

The timestamp told Ripley that he’d sent it last night before going to bed. The straightforward nature of those tiny words on the phone screen was so confirmatory that it almost made Ripley panic. He never felt okay when his heart raced like that, even if it was out of excitement. He gathered himself and texted a quick reply.

_Sure. What do you have in mind?_

Ripley smacked himself for leaving the question so open-ended. He was second-guessing everything he said or did. It was like being a teenager all over again. But the return text made him much calmer.

_Lunch? I have to be at the airport by 4._

A meal was always a good way to spend time. Ripley knew he could handle a lunch… date? Oh my god, was this a date? Ripley couldn’t stop rolling it over in his mind. After a frenzied shower and a fraught adventure picking out an outfit, Ripley went into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water. His roommate, Lauren, was sitting there drinking coffee and reading a book.

“You headed out?” she asked.

Ripley nodded, “Mhmm. Meeting a friend for lunch.”

“Same friend?” Lauren asked with a suspicious grin.

Ripley paused and shot her a faux glare. “None of your business,” he joked.

She chuckled. “Be good. And please have some fun. You need it.”

Ripley wasn’t exactly sure what she meant with that last comment but he decided it was best not to inquire further. Lauren had agreed to watch the dog for the better part of the day and Ripley left to head toward the subway. It was a great morning for getting the rest of his errands done, plus it gave him something to distract himself from his mounting nerves.

Back in Manhattan around lunchtime Ripley was waiting patiently outside the Indian restaurant he had picked. He had figured that Mark should get to enjoy some of the eclectic foods that New York City had to offer. Ripley liked being able to share his city with people. He was looking at the menu in the window when he heard a familiar voice.

“Hey!”

Ripley turned around just in time to see Mark only a few paces away on the sidewalk. Ripley immediately noticed that he wasn’t wearing glasses today but had on a really cute sweater. To Ripley’s surprise as he approached he went in for the hug. Ripley had no problem with hugs, it’s just that this had been again… unexpected.

And Ripley realized something then. Mark gave great hugs. Being that close to him was almost thrilling even though it was over in a flash.

_God, he smells good._

Internally screaming at himself, Ripley managed a warm greeting.

“Hey yourself,” he replied with a smile, “I’m glad we could do this today.”

They went into the restaurant, Ripley holding the door open for Mark, and took a seat at a table near the back.

“I’m bummed that I have to go home today,” Mark remarked as they split a few dishes.

“There’s a lot of New York that you haven’t seen yet, I’m sure,” Ripley commented as he adjusted his own glasses on his face.

For some reason, in this quiet little restaurant, both men were more natural and comfortable.

“Maybe I can come back sometime and you can show me around?” Mark suggested with a cautious smile.

Ripley didn’t say anything in reply. He just smiled and took a sip of his water. He wanted so badly to say yes, a million times yes. He wanted to offer up his unconditional company, he wanted to offer up his place to stay even. But he stayed quiet. Their conversations veered toward their mutual affirmation that being an adult was really difficult at times. This led to talking about relationships again, which quickly became awkward, but they couldn’t seem to stay away from the topic.

“It’s gonna be nice to see Chica again though,” said Mark during a lull in conversation.

Ripley smiled, “Does she freak out when you get back after a trip?”

“In her own way,” Mark nodded, “She’s strangely mellow for a puppy.”

 “Hey, can I ask you a question? It might be a kind of personal question so feel free to say no,” Mark asked.

Ripley knew what was coming but appreciated Mark’s kindness.

“Sure, I guess,” Ripley replied, unsure if he was ready for this.

“When did you know that you were a guy?” Mark inquired respectfully but with intense intrigue.

Ripley let out a slow audible breath in a little whistle as he thought for a moment. “Probably when I was about 5,” he replied.

Mark sat back in his chair, “Huh. Wow.” He looked thoughtful and not at all uncomfortable.

“I mean, that’s when most kids realize there’s a difference between boys and girls anyway. Before that gender is less important,” Ripley added.

Mark was nodding knowingly, “Yeah, I was just thinking the same thing.”

Ripley found himself a little on edge, anticipating the other shoe to drop. He was waiting for the intrusive questions he usually got from cisgender folk.

“But you couldn’t really do anything about it when you were 5, right?” Mark asked further.

“I mean, I played with boys, did some sports, just always felt my way of relating to other people was as a boy,” Ripley continued, “Even though the world around me kept trying to tell me otherwise.”

“I can’t imagine how hard that must have been,” Mark said enraptured by their conversation.

“To be honest, I don’t think about it much nowadays. It feels like many lives ago,” Ripley chuckled, “But every now and then my mom likes to remind me about how when I used to play pretend I would always be the prince rescuing my princess girl friends.”

Mark laughed. “I think I used to always pretend to be the dragon trying to eat everybody. What does that say about me?”

“I don’t think you want anyone psychoanalyzing that one,” Ripley joked.

In the silence that followed the two men simply stared at each other, both wearing thoughtful smiles. Eventually, the stillness of the moment was broken by the waitress arriving with the check. After a brief scuffle over who would pay, Ripley finally got his credit card into the waitress’ hands first.

“I guess I’ll just have to owe you one then,” Mark said.

“Good. Gives you an excuse to come back,” Ripley automatically added just as his phone went off.

It was a text from his roommate Lauren.

“Crap,” Ripley muttered with a small sigh, his demeanor changing instantly from happy and light to pouting.

“What’s wrong?” Mark asked.

“My roommate had an emergency and had to head into the city so she won’t be home with my dog. I’ve gotta head back home to take her out,” Ripley replied seeming immensely disappointed.

“Well… I’ve still got a couple hours to kill… You want company?” Mark asked.

Ripley looked up from his phone where he had been texting Lauren back. Mark’s dark eyes were hesitantly imploring, trying to read his response before he even opened his mouth to speak. Normally Ripley would decline an offer like this, preferring to spend the subway ride alone in his thoughts, but the idea of saying no to Mark was heartbreaking. It was like kicking a puppy if Ripley was truly being honest. Plus, he didn’t want the date to end.

“Sure! As long as you don’t mind riding the subway,” Ripley replied.

“Of course I don’t mind. Why would you waste money on a cab?” Mark asked rhetorically.

Ripley grinned. “Now you sound like a real New Yorker, Mr. L.A,” he teased.

The subway ride was mostly quiet save for a few moments when Ripley pointed out something interesting to Mark about a particular stop or location. They sat beside each other on the moderately crowded train, their knees bumping together quite often. Ripley was trying not to pay attention to it but kept looking at their legs. Mark noticed but didn’t say anything either despite his amusement. Once at the five-story walk-up, Ripley let Mark in the front door to the building.

“How old is this building?” Mark asked as he followed Ripley up the stairs.

“I think it was built in the 30’s,” Ripley replied.

“Cool. Wait… how many floors do we have to go up?” Mark inquired as they passed the second floor continuing upward.

Ripley turned to look back at him. “Why? Getting tired?” he teased.

Mark reached out and swatted at the back of Ripley’s jacket playfully.

“To the top. I live on the fifth floor,” Ripley finally replied.

Once inside the top floor apartment, Ripley took off his jacket and hung it near the door. The apartment had high tin ceilings painted over many times throughout the decades. There was a certain sparseness to the space even though it was filled with art and decoration. The super tall ceilings gave it that illusion. The walls were painted a light teal color and inside the front door was basically the kitchen space. This gave way to an open living room with a few small bedrooms off of the main space.

“Just… make yourself at home,” Ripley offered as he went peeking into the bedroom.

Mark took a few minutes to look at the art on the walls, check out the collection of records, CD’s, and movies near the huge windows, and to appreciate the old architecture.

“Sylvie!” Ripley called.

And sure enough both men turned toward the spare bedroom door when they heard the faint jingle of a dog collar. A chubby black pug sauntered through the door and stared at Mark for a moment before walking up to Ripley who scooped her up into his arms.

She chuffed a little.

“Mark, this is Sylvie. Sylvie, this is Mark,” Ripley introduced them as Mark hesitantly came over to let the older dog sniff his hand.

“Hey sweet pup,” Mark cooed, “Sylvie, huh?”

“She’s actually named after Lady Sylvanas from World of Warcraft,” Ripley admitted.

Mark’s eyes widened in sudden excitement. “You play!?”

Ripley nodded, “I’ve been playing since the beginning.”

Up until that point Mark was pretty sure he had moderated most of his reactions to the cute or interesting things Ripley did or said, but this was too awesome for him to keep it all to himself. Mark had played Warcraft for years and had a huge soft spot for the game. While his job made it hard to game for fun he still managed to hop on WoW once in a while. Ripley took Sylvie outside for a quick walk while Mark sat down on the couch in the living room making sure to text his Battle Tag to Ripley so he wouldn’t lose it. Ripley returned to the apartment amused.

“Don’t worry. Don’t worry. I’ll add you the next time I log on, I promise,” he reassured Mark as he came over to sit beside him.

“You’d better,” Mark teased.

“I mostly play Horde. I don’t know about you,” Ripley remarked.

“Uh, I have a few Horde toons,” Mark was quick to reply.

“Oh hell no,” Ripley taunted, “You play Alliance? Oh no, this friendship is never gonna work.”

“Hey, life’s all about compromise, right?” Mark added.

Sylvie then promptly demanded up on the couch with a snort and once lifted up, nestled beside Ripley. Mark reached across him to pet the dog, putting the two men physically closer than they’d ever been before. Sylvie’s little curly tail wagged.

“Ripley?” Mark asked, suddenly sounding much more serious, “Weird question.”

“Mhmm?” was all Ripley could reply, much too tense at the sensation of Mark right there beside him.

“Can I kiss you?” Mark asked, letting the question out like a breath that had been held underwater for far too long.

_GOD YES. GOD PLEASE YES._

“Yes,” was all Ripley could squeak out.

Mark looked incredibly unsure of himself, but managed to put a hand on Ripley’s shoulder before leaning in to press their lips together. It was pretty awkward; their positioning there on the couch, their nervousness, the odd scratchy sensation of kissing another person with scruffy facial hair. Mark pulled back after a moment, a half-suppressed giggle bubbling up to his lips. He stared at Ripley for a reaction, his eyebrows pulling together anxiously.

Ripley felt that bloom of warmth in his chest once more. He turned himself so he was facing Mark and kissed him again. This time it was all Ripley and his trembling determination. He paused momentarily, not knowing where to put his hands before grabbing at the material of Mark’s sweater near his sides. Ripley felt like he had to hold on for dear life. He was pretty sure Mark was smiling under his lips and he could feel Mark’s hands, one settling on Ripley’s knee, the other on the side of his neck. Ripley felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

This time it was Ripley that pulled away, just a tiny bit. His face was bright pink.

“I’m… I’m sorry, it’s been a while,” he stammered softly.

Mark never moved his hands. Ripley could feel Mark’s fingers on the back of his neck playing with his curls.

“It’s okay,” Mark replied, barely containing that childlike enthusiasm again, “I’ve never actually kissed a guy before.”

“I guess we’re both a little out of our element, huh?” Ripley asked with a tiny smile.

Ripley let go of Mark with one hand and reached up to push messy pieces of red hair out of Mark’s face.

“Just a bit,” Mark replied getting slightly closer again.

But it was Ripley that closed the gap. He wanted to climb right into Mark’s lap but managed to control himself. All that anxious energy, all the ambiguous feelings from the past couple of days drained out of Ripley’s body. All he wanted now was this moment.

Repositioning his lips, Ripley accidentally crashed their faces together awkwardly.

“Sorry,” he said softly with a chuckle.

“It’s okay,” Mark whispered back, leaving soft little brushing kisses against his lips as they repositioned themselves on the couch yet again.

Ripley’s fingers entwined themselves in Mark’s longer locks as they settled again forehead to forehead.

“It’s weird kissing someone with a beard,” Ripley remarked.

“No kidding,” Mark laughed as they easily came back together for another kiss.

This one felt a little more relaxed, a little more fluid. Ripley was already smitten with Mark’s soft lips and he gently let himself taste them with the tip of his tongue. Mark’s response with nearly instantaneous. He let out a soft sound, tilting his head just so and parting his lips so their tongues could collide. The next few minutes were filled with soft gasps, wet kisses, and clinging fingers. They suddenly found themselves nearly on top of each other, pressed tightly chest to chest.

“Holy shit,” Ripley panted when Mark broke away to kiss down the side of his neck.

The velcro sensation of their beards brushing together almost tickled. Heat poured from their touching bodies. Ripley felt the wet skin on his neck from Mark’s kisses cooling against the air. His hands found their way to the edge of Mark’s sweater, fingers at first lingering on the waist band on his jeans before gently moving over warm damp skin. Ripley closed his eyes to allow himself to mentally memorize what he was touching. Moving from the softer parts of his sides toward his strong stomach, muscles clenching excitedly under smooth skin, Ripley found two of his fingertips over Mark’s scar, which he stroked sweetly.

Mark shuddered.

“It’s sensitive. I know,” Ripley whispered.

Mark’s body tensed a little more as Ripley let his fingers continue, his own head thrown completely to the side letting Mark do whatever he wanted to his neck and collarbone.

Suddenly, a cellphone chimed.

Mark gave an audibly annoyed growl as he dug his phone out of his pocket. Ripley took the moment’s reprieve to straighten the collar of his shirt and catch his breath. Mark’s wide-eyed excitement slowly changed.

“I… I really hate to do this but…” Mark started.

“But you have to go,” Ripley finished the sentence for him. He had spied the clock in the hall a moment ago and noted that they didn’t have much time left if Mark was going to make his flight.

_Not that I was going to mention it or anything._

Ripley quickly excused himself to the bathroom to splash some water on his face. He had never seen himself look so worked up. His entire face and neck were pink, his pupils dilated, his hair was a mess, and there… on his neck…

_Fucking hell… what are we? 13?_

When he returned to the living room Mark already had his jacket back on and was squatted down on the floor saying goodbye to Sylvie. He stood when he saw Ripley.

“I’m really sorry about this,” Mark lamented and boy, did he mean it.

“It’s okay. I know you’ve gotta get home.”

“I don’t know what your relationship situation is exactly but… Can I call you later when I get in?” Mark asked.

“I’d like that,” Ripley replied letting down his guard completely for the first time in three days.

Mark beamed, the little smile lines at the corners of his eyes more defined than ever. Ripley walked him to the door. Mark’s hand rested on the handle for a moment before he opened it like it was physically difficult to go. Finally, he opened the apartment door and turned back to face Ripley.

“Thank you. For everything. I really mean it,” he said.

“You’re welcome. For everything,” Ripley replied.

Mark grabbed the front of Ripley’s shirt and pulled him against his chest for another kiss. There was something else there this time though. Ripley could sense it. Mark was trying to memorize everything about how Ripley felt, smelled, and tasted. It was a memory he could take back home with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I'll be back next week.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I know that you're hurt_   
>  _I know I'm to blame_   
>  _But I'll make it work_   
>  _I'll make you stay_   
>  _Until that day I'm one plane ride away_   
>  _From New York to L.A._
> 
> ~Blackbear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you [PagingValentineOne](http://archiveofourown.org/users/PagingValentineOne/pseuds/PagingValentineOne) for the beta! And thank you to everyone who's taken the time to read so far.

Mark was in a daze as he headed to the airport. For the entirety of the ride, the flight, and then the drive home, he waited on edge for any kind of notification from his phone. Just one text, that was all he wanted. Something to reassure him that it hadn’t all been completely one-sided.

Back in New York, Ripley lay in bed pining. There really wasn’t a better word for what he was doing. He needed some time and some space to figure out what was going on in his head. He hadn’t dated a man in over a decade, but suddenly here was this irresistible person thrust into his life seemingly by chance. Sylvie lay beside him snoring comfortingly. Ripley himself was starting to doze off when his cellphone buzzed. He lazily glanced down at the notification.

It was Mark.

There was no text, just a picture. It was a selfie of Mark sitting on the floor of what Ripley assumed was his house with a happy smiling Golden Retriever in his lap. Ripley giggled. Instead of writing back he merely sent a selfie of himself lying in bed with Sylvie fast asleep on her back, her tongue hanging out. Ripley snuggled into the blankets a little better, leaving the picture of Mark and Chica open on his phone so he could stare at it.

Another text chimed through.

Mark: _Are you busy? Can I call you?_

Ripley nearly shoved his face into his pillow. He allowed himself a moment to swoon in peace before replying affirmatively. Moments later the phone rang.

“Hey,” Ripley said as he answered the phone on speaker, leaving it on the pillow.

“Hey,” Mark replied.

A short silence was followed by laughter from both men. They ended up talking for hours. Ripley even closed his eyes at one point to pretend that Mark was lying there next to him in his bed. Ripley was eventually having to fight sleep and then realized how late it was.

“Shit. It’s 2am. I should probably get some sleep. I have to work tomorrow,” he confessed.

“Another twelve hour shift?” Mark asked.

“Yup,” Ripley replied, smiling at the fact that Mark remembered.

“Yeah, it’s only 11 here but I think I’m still on New York time,” Mark added with a yawn.

Ripley heard the phone moving on his end as he stretched.

“Then… goodnight, I suppose?” Ripley said. It sounded more like a question than a statement.

“Goodnight, Ripley.”

“’Night Mark. Sleep well.”

 

The next day at work Ripley arrived looking a little more worse-for-wear than usual. He stowed his bag in his locker, put on his scrub jacket, and headed back out to the floor. It felt good to be distracted by the routines of work. You might think that working in an Emergency Room would be anything but routine, but Ripley found comfort in the unknown, at least in his professional life.

He treated quite a few of the usual ailments: cuts, concussions, food poisonings, sprains, etc. It was getting to those quiet hours and Ripley took a break to hide out in the back of the nurse’s station and eat something. One of his coworkers, Sandra, the nurse manager on duty that evening, was already back there just finishing her break.

“Ripley! Did you have a nice few days off?” she asked, seeming inordinately interested in his free time. She was middle-aged, a bottle blonde, and had worked at the hospital for probably a century.

“Uh, yeah, it was fine,” he replied, cordial but suspicious.

“I’m sure it was,” she added with a smirk. As she walked by she poked at the side of Ripley’s neck, “I’m sure it was great for her too.”

_What the hell is she talking about?_

As it dawned on Ripley, he put a hand up to his neck trying to be casual.

_I can’t believe those are still there… Dammit Mark…_

“Just a regular few days off,” Ripley said to Sandra, trying to remain mellow but starting to boil with embarrassment.

Sandra smiled knowingly and somewhat condescendingly. “It’s okay, Ripley. Besides, it’s about time you found yourself a nice young lady.”

_Gender essentialist bullshit…_

Ripley then turned around in his chair, moving his hand away from his neck to let the red and purple love bites show in all their great glory. “That nice young lady? Well, his name is Mark and yeah, we had a really great time,” he intoned, his voice just dripping with sarcasm.

Just then, one of the RN’s came to find Sandra to ask her about a patient who was being transferred up to the Cardiac Care Unit. Sandra looked a bit shell-shocked from Ripley’s reaction, but was able to quickly excuse herself to get back to the floor.

Ripley turned back to his food and took a minute to catch his breath. Leaning his elbows on the desk, he put his head in his hands for a moment, fingers settling in his curly hair. He was never like that, especially not at work. She had just made him so damn angry with her assumptions and her prying. At least the subject of her prying could offer Ripley a moment of reprieve. He pulled out his phone to just look at the picture from last night and found a few text notifications. Ripley instantly smiled.

_Mark._

There was a short string of texts from earlier and then one from just a few minutes ago. Ripley ate his food while texting back.

Ripley: _I’m sorry I didn’t see these until now since I’m at work. I’m doing okay. How are you and Chica?_

Mark texted back immediately.

Mark: _We’re good! Went to the park earlier. I’m getting ready to go out rock climbing with some friends. Can I maybe call you again later?_

That warm little trill fluttered through Ripley’s chest again. It almost felt like indigestion.

Ripley: _You’d better. I get off work at 11._

Ripley wasn’t sure where this sudden boldness was coming from, both with Mark and with the other people in his life. He didn’t remember having become so sullen and bland, but maybe years of working 60+ hour weeks had sort of sapped him of his personality. His life seemed to suddenly have a lot more color, and he knew exactly who to thank for that. Mark wrote back.

Mark: _Yes, sir. It’s a date._

Back out on the floor but not yet off break, Ripley skulked around until he found Alessa, a young CNA who’d been working there for about a year. He and Alessa had become friendly when they realized they had a few of the same favorite bands and comic books. Alessa was in a room with a patient getting them settled in and hooked up to the monitors. She had a great rapport with the patients. She was direct but also very confident and kind. It often made patients feel at ease even in times of panic. Ripley watched her for a moment before knocking on the open door to get her attention.

“Oh, hi Ripley!” she said, her giant glasses taking up half her face and her new nose piercing sparkling in the bright overhead fluorescents.

“Hey, ‘Lessa. When you’re done, and no rush, can I see you back at the nurse’s station?” Ripley asked.

She joined him back there about fifteen minutes later. “Sorry for the wait. I had to get Dr. Strauss her favorite suture kit and of course it was hidden in the back of the supply closet,” Alessa said fidgeting with the pens in her pocket.

Ripley looked around for a moment and lowered his voice. “You’re the only person I feel comfortable asking this… Do you have any concealer by any chance?” he asked.

Alessa pursed her lips in thought, “I’m pretty sure I do. In my bag.”

She gestured for Ripley to follow and they walked into the staff locker room area. There was no questioning, no judgment. Ripley knew he had asked the right person. He sat on the bench in the quiet beige room while Alessa dug through her bag in her locker.

“Got it!” she cried pulling out a tube of make-up.

Ripley felt a wave of relief come over him. “Do you mind if I use some?” he asked.

“Not at all,” she replied tossing him the tube.

He caught it on the fly and walked over to the giant mirror over the sinks. Alessa watched him through his reflection as he pulled his scrub top collar to the side to get a better look at all the barely faded hickeys on his neck.

“Damn,” Ripley sighed as he started trying to cover them with the foundation.

“You want some help?” Alessa offered.

Ripley turned to face her. “I’m that pathetic, huh?”

She chuckled. “No. I just imagine it’s been a long time since you’ve played with that kind of stuff.”

Alessa knew that Ripley was trans. She was, in fact, one of the only people at the hospital who knew. In part this was because they’d both seen each other at artsy queer events in the city. She took the tube from Ripley and carefully used the pad of her finger to blend some into each red spot until it was thoroughly covered.

“These look pretty new,” she remarked.

“Mhmm, from yesterday,” Ripley admitted.

“Cool,” Alessa replied, “I mean, I presume it’s cool.”

Ripley chuckled. “Yeah, it’s pretty cool.”

Just then his phone went off.

“Is that your hickey artist?” Alessa asked as she recapped the make-up.

Ripley nodded with a smile. He felt comfortable to swoon a little around Alessa. Ripley took a few minutes to chastise Mark via text message for leaving him with so many badges of honor from their last encounter. Mark texted back.

Mark: _Feel free to enact your revenge upon me next time I visit._

The rest of Ripley’s shift went on like this, with texts messages shot back and forth with ever increasing flirtation and innuendo. By the time he made it through his subway commute home and up to his apartment, his phone was already ringing.

This was the way of things for the next couple of weeks. Mark would always text throughout the day and the two of them would have a phone ‘date’ every evening. Eventually Ripley caved to his curiosity and looked Mark up online. He was directed to his YouTube channel and took the time to watch a couple of videos. Not all of them were of interest to him, but it was nice to just see Mark’s face and hear his voice at the same time. One evening Ripley was home cooking some dinner with Mark there on speaker phone as usual.

“Hey, do you ever use FaceTime?” Mark asked.

“I mean, I have, but doesn’t it use up a ton of data?” Ripley asked in reply.

“Not if you’re on wifi,” Mark assured him.

Ripley knew that. He wasn’t an idiot. He just looked like hell from a day of cleaning. But Mark’s powers of persuasion were just too strong. Ripley barely got a chance to check his reflection in the shiny surface of the toaster before his phone was ringing that he had a FaceTime call.

“Shit,” Ripley muttered.

He answered the call anyway and there was Mark. He looked like he was sitting at a desk. He was wearing glasses this time and also looked like he had spent the day sequestered away from the outside world. Ripley leaned the phone against the backsplash so Mark could see him.

“Hi again!” Mark said waving.

“Hey,” Ripley waved back.

“What are you doing?” Mark asked. He was smiling from ear to ear and it wasn’t going unnoticed.

“Just cooking dinner,” Ripley replied, “What about you?”

“Editing,” Mark said, “It’s only, like, 4 o’clock here so I’m trying to get more work done.”

“Do you want me to let you go then?” Ripley asked trying to be polite.

“Hell no,” Mark scoffed.

Ripley held in a small laugh and just grinned down at the pan of food on the stove. It took a few minutes but they both finally got more comfortable talking face to face. All those days of texting and disembodied voices had made them both more forward and bold, but now it was back to that strange edge of shyness that had tinged all their encounters prior. Ripley finished cooking and took the phone to the table with him to eat.

“It’s kinda like a date. A 3000 mile date?” Mark suggested.

Ripley swore he was blushing. “Thank goodness for technology, right?”

But Ripley was genuinely sad that they couldn’t really share a meal right now, or hold hands, or kiss. He felt lonely, but didn’t want to share that information right now. It felt too self-serving. His talks with Mark were always upbeat and jovial. That was how much they enjoyed talking to each other. Ripley wondered if Mark sometimes felt lonely too.

Playing together on World of Warcraft offered them a great opportunity to do something together that distracted them both from their pining. Mark had caved and made a Horde toon on Ripley’s server so they could quest and raid together. On the nights that Ripley didn’t work he would stay up extra late to play for at least a few hours with Mark, locked away in his bedroom, headphones and microphone on so they could chat at the same time. It was a particular evening of dungeon runs when Mark suddenly got more quiet than usual. Ripley wondered at first if he was just tired.

“You okay, man? You sound exhausted,” Ripley remarked, trying to get him to open up a little more.

“I just miss you,” Mark simply said.

Ripley was quiet for a moment. “How can you miss me? You’ve only spent a couple of days with me,” he asked finally, not sounding bitter, merely curious.

“It wasn’t enough. I mean, especially now, now that we’ve spent all this time getting to know each other,” Mark replied, “What I’m trying to say is that it’s getting really hard to be away from you.”

Ripley parked his character in a safe spot to be able to give Mark his full attention right now.

“I know,” Ripley replied thoughtfully, “I totally get it.”

“I wanna come back,” Mark said suddenly and decisively.

“Please, god, yes,” Ripley replied immediately with a certain serious deadpan, “Then I don’t have to lie in bed with my phone on the other pillow anymore to pretend you’re here.”

Ripley wasn’t sure why he felt compelled to confess this embarrassing practice. It was probably inspired by Mark’s own honesty along with that bit of sadness he could hear in his kind resonant voice. Ripley wanted Mark to know that he missed Mark just as much, if not more, than Mark missed him.

Mark was tickled. “Do you really do that?”

Ripley sighed, “Yes. Yes, I do.”

“That’s adorable,” Mark laughed.

“When do you think you can come visit?” Ripley asked, not wanting to be too pushy, but also wanting to be too pushy.

“Uh… ideally tomorrow,” Mark mumbled as he looked at his calendar in his phone.

Ripley chuckled. “Don’t get my hopes up,” he quipped.

Mark sighed, he was sounding less and less hopeful. “It looks like I won’t have enough time to come for a real visit for about six more weeks.”

“Oh. Well, six weeks isn’t terrible!” Ripley replied trying to sound upbeat.

“Are you sure?” Mark asked.

“What do you mean am I sure?” Ripley inquired in disbelief.

“I mean, are you sure you want an asshole like me staying with you?” Mark said over the game chat.

Ripley was glad Mark couldn’t see his face for this conversation. Ripley was overjoyed at Mark’s assumption that he would be staying at his apartment instead of a hotel. It was exactly what Ripley wanted, but might have been too shy to ask otherwise.

“There is no other asshole in the world I’d rather share my bed with,” Ripley finally replied.

Planning things ahead, especially in long distance relationships, really gives you something to look forward to. That can provide a great deal of positivity and hope to what could be a very emotionally difficult situation, and that’s exactly what it did for both Mark and Ripley. Their daily talks continued, sometimes only through text if one or both of them were extra busy. As the days ticked by their conversation turned more toward planning for Mark’s arrival. He was going to have nearly a week in New York with Ripley and they were both still under the illusion that they would have time to do things that didn’t involve sex, eating, or sleep.

It was about four weeks until Mark’s visit (not that anyone was counting), and Ripley had to go into work on what would have been a day off for a day long training. He knew it was going to be boring, so he brought some things to help keep him occupied. He’d texted Mark earlier to let him know that their midday WoW playing would have to wait because of this training. Mark had replied that he had some videos to record and edit anyway, so he would attempt to be productive in Ripley’s absence.

The auditorium at the hospital for the training was huge with stadium style seating. Ripley took his seat near the back, not wanting to draw attention if he decided to take extra bathroom breaks or doodle on his worksheets during the presentation. We watched his colleagues file in and take seats also toward the back. He knew very few of them. When you work in a hospital that large you only really know the people in your immediate department and the departments you interface with on a daily basis. Ripley felt his phone go off in his pocket. He pulled it out knowing exactly who it was.

Mark: _Azeroth is so lonely without you._

Ripley texted back, careful to keep the phone on his lap so people around him couldn’t see that he was on it.

Ripley: _New York City is lonely without you._

Mark was writing back before Ripley even sent his text.

Mark: _I miss kissing you…_

Ripley stared at that particular text for a few moments, suddenly feeling acutely aware of his presence in a room full of people. But nobody was paying attention to him. No one would ever know.

Ripley: _But how can you miss something you’ve barely done at all?_

Mark: _Well, I plan on doing it a lot more. You… Me… That couch… We have a date. Sylvie can’t come though._

Ripley held in his chuckle.

Ripley: _That’s no problem. She knows how to mind her own business. What else do you plan on doing?_

Mark: _If I tell you it won’t be a surprise._

Ripley: _I hate surprises._

Mark: _Well, last time we kissed you were far too clothed. I plan on taking care of that pretty quickly._

The room had gone quiet for the presentation. Ripley looked up nervously, but as soon as the trainers began to speak he went back to his phone.

Ripley: _Only so long as you return the favor. You look ridiculously good without your shirt on. I’m curious to see the rest… and touch the rest too._

Mark: _Geez Ripley, this isn’t fair._

And boy, could Ripley commiserate. He was starting to feel a little warm for no good reason.

Ripley: _HAH. You think you have it bad? I’m in a giant classroom full of hospital employees._

Mark: _Holy shit! Is it bad that I feel like this kinda makes the conversation hotter?_

Ripley: _I’m not sure. But I’m having a hell of a time concentrating over here._

Mark: _Tell me what you’re thinking about._

Ripley couldn’t believe this was really happening. He’d had dirty text conversations with girlfriends in the past, but never before they’d actually slept together. Well, Ripley figured that honesty was always the best policy.

Ripley: _Coming home to find you naked in my bed. That’s been on my mind quite a bit the past couple weeks._

Mark: _Dammit Ripley…_

Ripley: _And getting to press up all hard against you before climbing on top of you and kissing you all over._

Sitting there in that classroom, Ripley’s feet couldn’t help fidgeting. He could feel his heart beating in his chest and the blood rushing through his veins. He was glad he was sitting down because he was starting to get a little lightheaded. Mark’s response this time was a little more delayed.

Mark: _I can’t wait to find out what you taste like._

Ripley: _You’re going to be lucky if you make it through the front door._

Mark: _I’m going to be lucky right now if I make it to my bathroom._

Ripley: _Well, just pretend I’m waiting in there for you. On my knees._

Mark: _Fuuuuck… Hold on._

Ripley sat there clutching his phone. Knowing what was happening 3000 miles away and not being able to participate was killing him. He already knew they had a lot of time to make up for and this was only making it worse. He tried as best he could to get engaged with the presentation then, but his mind just kept wandering back to imagining Mark getting off. He was sure he was at least a little flushed. Ripley squirmed in his seat, so incredibly turned on that he even considered sneaking off to hide in the bathroom down the hall. After a few minutes of this struggle, he felt his phone vibrate again in his hands.

Mark: _Back._

Ripley: _Feeling better?_

Mark: _Much. Thank you for the wonderful mental._

Ripley: _Lucky…_

Mark: _Just tell me as soon as you get home. We can FaceTime. I wanna return the favor and watch you._

 

A week before Mark’s arrival just happened to be Ripley’s birthday. Mark was really bummed that he couldn’t schedule his visit during Ripley’s actual birthday but had promised that they would celebrate while he was in New York. In the days leading up to Ripley’s birthday, Mark had made sure to have a text and some pictures waiting for Ripley on his phone upon waking up each morning. The pictures weren’t always family friendly material, mind you.

The actual day of his 35th birthday, Ripley was on the phone with Mark as he unpacked groceries. He was having a small get together at his apartment with eating, drinking, and movie watching. There were maybe a dozen people coming over.

“Did you like my pics this morning?” Mark asked with a lascivious chuckle.

“I did!” Ripley replied, “Especially the one from the behind. Did someone else take that one for you?”

“I’m not spilling my secrets. Tricks of the trade, man.”

“Only six more days,” Ripley reminded him, “Then I can be your photographer.”

“Did you figure out yet what you want to do for your birthday once I get there?” Mark asked.

“Oh, I have a few ideas,” Ripley replied.

“Care to share?”

“Not quite yet.”

Lauren, Ripley’s roommate was helping him set up for the party and every time she heard them being cutesy on the phone she’d make sure that Ripley saw her rolling her eyes. Eventually Ripley let Mark get back to work and joined Lauren to help with the party food. The evening was wonderful. Everyone in attendance was happy and festive. Ripley had had a few drinks quite early on and just kept going as the night continued. Another knock sounded at the door and Ripley went to answer it. It was a delivery man.

“Are you Ripley Leif?” he asked.

“Yes? That’s me,” Ripley replied.

“I have a package for you. Please sign,” he said handing Ripley a pen and clipboard.

In his slightly inebriated state Ripley just went ahead and signed for it, then lugged the large box into the apartment. A couple of people had come over to see who was at the door.

“A birthday present maybe?” one guest asked.

Another was looking at the address label. “It’s from California. Who’s Mark Fischbach?”

A sweet smile spread across Ripley’s face. Lauren caught his gaze and gave him an excited thumbs up. “It’s a good friend,” she answered, “Are you gonna open it?”

Ripley was forever grateful to Lauren for moving the conversation forward and away from personal things he was not prepared to share. His vodka soaked brain wasn’t ready for those kinds of questions right now. He kneeled down and picked at the packing tape. The box was definitely well wrapped. The labels on it indicated that it had only been sent yesterday through some really speedy shipping methods. Once inside the box, Ripley pulled out a card. He opened it. Mark’s handwriting wasn’t the neatest he’d ever seen, but it was better than most of the physicians he worked with.

Ripley scanned the card and decided to read just a portion out loud, “Happy Birthday, Old Man! Wish I could be there. You owe me another game night. Love, Mark.”

He conveniently left out the parts on the card about how Mark would be seeing him soon and how he couldn’t wait to get his hands on him. He carefully cleared out more packing material and reached into the huge box to pull out another slightly smaller box. It was a PS4 with all the extras one could possibly need. There was also a pack of games in the box as well. Ripley couldn’t believe his generosity. He certainly didn’t deserve all this fancy stuff.

“Whoever he is, he sure knows that Ripley likes video games,” a friend commented.

“Yeah, he’s one of my gamer buddies,” Ripley replied which seemed to quell people’s curiosity about the mystery man from California.

Lauren helped him put his new acquisitions in his bedroom as Ripley called Mark right away to thank him.

“Hiya birthday boy!” Mark answered.

“Thank you for the presents. You really didn’t have to do that,” Ripley replied, slightly tongue tied.

“I know. But I wanted to,” Mark chuckled.

The din of the party was evident in the background. Lauren left the room to give them a few minutes to talk.

“It’s not the same without you here, though,” Ripley said with his drunken honesty at full capacity.

“Soon though, right? Less than a week and I’ll be right there sitting next to you,” Mark reassured him.

Ripley looked over at the bed beside him, imagining Mark sitting there wearing his giant beautiful smile. “I can’t wait,” he murmured.

“Me neither,” Mark replied.

They wished each other a goodnight and sweet dreams, both reluctant to hang up.  

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm trying for a chapter a week.  
> Feedback is always appreciated!


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